


A Thousand Reasons

by Thymelady



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Language, S3, Supernatural Elements, Swearing, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 15:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10221251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymelady/pseuds/Thymelady
Summary: Ichabbie, arguing. Getting somewhere, but not far enough.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Standalone story for Ichabbie First Kiss challenge. Must have some UST and angst sometimes... Set late in S3.
> 
> Ichabbie forever. ♡

“This is the wrong way,” Crane said for the fourth time.

“You don’t know that!” Abbie replied with a growing irritation.

“Lieutenant, you’re not listening!”

“Oh, I’M not listening!? Well, you never stop talking!” she retorted and walked further along the path in the forest with her weapon drawn.

Crane stopped talking, looking dour and feeling affronted but kept following her. He knew she was right. It was just... What did he bring to the table, if not his knowledge? If he wasn’t the walking encyclopaedia of their partnership, who was he? A man out if time, that was all. An obsolete freeloader.

He tried to make up for it, of course. Looking after the house. Cooking. Trying to ease things as much as possible. Doing what she asked and not asked. He observed her, tried to read her moods. Like now.

“Will you fucking stop?!” she suddenly hissed and turned to him. Her weapon was still in her hand but not aimed at him. Not yet, at least. 

He lost his patience. “What the devil have I done to affront you, Miss Mills!?” 

“It’s like I can HEAR you in my head, hear how you mull things over and over!” she made angry gestures, as if she had inner grindstones moving in her head because of his thoughts.

“Close me out, then! You normally do that without problem!” he retorted, and hoped that it hurt her as much as it hurt him.

“Oh, you think that’s easy!?” she yelled. “Closing out your every attempt to fix everything, while you litter my coffee table with snacks? That you constantly try to read my mind?? That you won’t call Zoe back? That you won’t study for that fucking citizen test! And that you pretend to be happy to share my home, when in fact you might pack your stuff tomorrow??” Her voice echoed around them, in and out among the trees. It echoed through him, shaking him and leaving him numb.

“I can’t always be perfect,” he mumbled weakly.

“That’s just IT! You don’t have to! Please just... relax and read up for that citizen test.”

“But that’s the problem. I can’t be imperfect the way you’d like me to be, I can only be it in a way that you hate.” 

She glared at him. Suddenly, it was as clear as the moonlight above them that her outburst had pulled down a curtain of politesse that had hung around them like a heavy security blanket. 

“I don’t hate it that you don’t study for it. It annoys me.”

“I know.”

“Is that why you do it?”

“Perhaps.” 

She huffed. 

“I will do it, though,” he explained.

“The night before the test.”

“That will be enough.” 

“That’ll be cheating, you privileged prick!” she shouted, losing her temper again.

“I LIVED all those things. And I can’t help having an eidetic memory!” he roared back. 

“What if it doesn’t help!?” she yelled. “What if you get deported anyway? If they see what a self-absorbed asshole you are who just want to tell them that they are NOTHING to the great Ichabod Crane!? But noooo. I suppose a fucking founding father would raise from the grave to save your ass!” 

“Might be better for all parties involved if I was deported, Lieutenant. Have you not considered that?” and his annoying finger was in the air.

Abbie was just about to yell some truths and profanities at him when the werewolf attacked.

Moments later, the werewolf latched out for Abbie, and Crane had used his anger and adrenaline to take on the beast – and the next second, he was thrown around like rag in the werewolf’s grip. Abbie shot it and the beast released her partner. They worked together, like always, but there was an edge within them both. Anger, fight, seeing one’s partner in mortal danger, already being scratched and hurt – and in the middle of it dealing with their own issues was a deadly cocktail. The werewolf was confused and bathed in moonlight. Abbie grabbed the other weapon that they had prepared and wondered why Crane didn’t do the same, at the opposite end. This was the moment they had been waiting for. 

“The gun!! Shoot it, Crane!” 

He did, and the silver bullets from their special weapons both hit and missed. Those who missed where the ones he worried about most, as they passed perilously close to the Lieutenant. He heard the bullets fired from her gun whistle by him, far too close for comfort. But it worked. The werewolf fell to the ground, whimpering and peppered with silver bullets from both of them. 

They both breathed out, lowering the weapons and gingerly getting closer to the beast. It was slowly fading away. 

“Poor creature,” was Abbie’s sad remark.

“More Fenrir than Remus Lupin, I would say.” 

“Yeah, well... He was fairly close to turning YOU into Remus Lupin tonight.”

Crane shuddered. “Then you’d have to pepper me with silver bullets next, Lieutenant.” 

Her head snapped up and she glared at him.

“Don’t be silly!” 

“But it is true!” he protested. “And quickly, before a founding father had time to rise from the dead!” 

“Shut up!” she snapped. “We’re both wounded. Let’s go home!” She spun on her heel and walked back, a fast pace on her long legs. Not that he couldn’t pick up on her speed on his own long legs, but he thought it best to let her go first.

The atmosphere was tense in the car home. Crane pressed a cloth on his ripped, left arm, while his left hand pressed a cloth on Abbie’s right, scratched thigh. His favourite coat and her favourite pair of jeans were ruined. At least there wouldn’t be any more killings in town and they hadn’t been bitten, so neither would be turned into werewolves. Small mercies. 

Back home, they got band aids out in the kitchen and saw to their wounds, still in a silence that wasn’t companionable as usual. The house was mostly dark, the moon still shone but they worked in near-obscurity. Crane sat on a bar stool and had problems reaching his wound within his ripped shirt. 

“Take off your shirt and I’ll help you,” Abbie said curtly. 

“I can manage,” he muttered, rejecting her offer.

“Don’t be silly,” she snapped for the second time that night. 

“I will be as silly as I please, thank you very much, Miss Mills,” he said dismissively.

Abbie sighed dramatically but was hurt. She hated it when he turned cold. She would rather have him ranting and raving until the sun went up than this detached Crane. It was even worse that it was directed at her. That had happened so few times in the years they had known one another. But she couldn’t regret what she had said. She might have presented it in a better way, but she was fed up with hiding her anger and insecurity. She stood in front of him, trousers off since she had dressed her thigh, and he hadn’t even glanced at her. She had no reason to be offended by that, had she? And that alone offended her. It was probably the worst time ever to address their issues. 

“Right!” she said, hands on her hips. “If you have nothing else to say, I’m off to bed! Glad you didn’t die or turned into a werewolf!” She didn’t mean it as a joke but it came out a lot more bitter than intended. 

With a yelp, she was slammed into his chest and his long arms pressed her close. Moments later, her arms sneaked around his torso and neck. He was still sitting, making them equally tall for once. Desperate, still with adrenaline pumping through their bodies, they embraced like they were lost at sea. But it wasn’t just a hug between friends, as they slowly inhaled one another, felt very clearly their hands burning with longing to roam and knowing exactly how their bodies were pressed together. Fearing that the erotic tension would take over, neither dared to relax in the desperate embrace. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, almost nuzzling her soft skin. She felt his soft beard, his nose in her curls. Her fingers had found the locks at the nape of his neck. Sighing, she bit her lip. They let go abruptly, and she took a step back. Not daring to meet her eyes, he slid off the chair and mumbled ‘tea’. Some things were just so easy to foresee.

Abbie gingerly walked to the sofa, wondering if they would be able to breach any of the subjects that they needed to clear up. Then again, she was the expert of dodging them. Also, she was tired and her neck was aching. All adrenaline had left her and her body had just realised that it had been pressed so close to Crane’s lean body, and how close it had been to act on some secret fantasies. Other hormonal reactions raged in her body now, making her nipples hard and her panties revealingly wet. Could she blame the moonlight, like the werewolf? Walking around scantily clad was probably not a good idea. Once in the sofa, she pulled a blanket over her naked thighs. It was practically dark in that area, so she lit up some candles on the table, her hands slightly trembling.

Crane joined her with two cups of steaming tea and his robe over his breeches. He had taken off his ruined shirt, after all, and the robe did little to hide his chest. He glanced at the candles but said nothing. Sitting down, he placed their cups on the coffee table and she saw his eyes roam the leg next to him that she hadn’t cover properly. It didn’t really help her libido when he didn’t manage to hide his desire, but it felt like order was restored. 

They took some sips of tea, the silence still heavy but with a different meaning than before. Abbie rubbed her neck, apparently in pain. 

“You’re aching?” he asked.

“Could say that, yeah,” she mumbled. 

“Let me...” he said as his right hand lightly brushed back her hair and his fingers started to massage her stiff muscles. 

“Hey, mmm... you’ve hurt one arm and use the good one on me?”

He only smiled a little. Abbie groaned from the pleasure-pain and suddenly opened her eyes, staring into his. Teary.

“Why are you so good to me?” she asked earnestly. 

His hand stilled and he just beheld her. 

“I... can think of a thousand reasons,” he answered slowly, lightly rubbing her neck now. 

Somehow, they had inched closer than before. His hand was warm and still on her skin, and she leaned her brow on his shoulder with a small sob. When his other hand landed on her naked thigh, her hands pulled his robe apart a bit more. Lightly, she touched the scar that had led him to her. He released a shuddering breath and let his soft lips brush her temple. 

“Why are _you_ so good to _me_?” he asked, and there was wonder in his voice.

“I can probably think of a thousand reasons myself,” she whispered. 

He slowly cupped her cheek and she lifted her head off his shoulder. Her dark eyes were gleaming, but it wasn’t from tears or sadness. Her nose carefully touched the side of his, and his strawberry lips instinctively pouted. Lightly, her sumptuous lips touched his. The tickle made them both lightheaded; and her lips parted, moved against his again, and the feeling was moist and so warm. His beard was surprisingly soft, was all she could think as warm light coursed through her veins. She had never felt so close to anyone in her life as she did in that moment. Tenderly they kissed, and any or every pain was forgotten. It was sweet and relaxed in comparison to the desperate embrace earlier. 

Slowly releasing her succulent lips, his foreheads rested against hers. Meeting her eyes was like a soft caress and it wasn’t long until they moved closer again, now in a passionate embrace that erased all doubts as to why they had ever needed to argue, or what it was they really wanted. Abbie was practically sitting in his lap and when his tongue entered her mouth, she was ready to give in with a needy moan. Perhaps that broke the spell, since he grabbed her shoulders and they broke free. Staring wildly at him, she scooted back and all her walls came up again. 

“Lieutenant –”

“I’m sorry! I need to go to sleep! I – goodnight!” 

She ran upstairs before he had time to collect himself, and knew better than to follow her. Alas. No, it was… delicate. Trying to persuade her or indeed himself that they should have let the kiss go on would have been dangerous to them both. Wasn’t it? 

Resigned, Crane decided to go to bed himself. But at least his eidetic mind was very helpful as to replay what had happened, and he was quite sure that Abbie’s memory of their moment wouldn’t fade either. Even if she wanted it to. He blew out the candles, save for one that he brought into his room. Mood, indeed.

One thing was certain: some things was easier to do than to discuss. 

The End


End file.
